


What You Need (Dust of Daily Life Remix)

by IreneADonovan



Series: Remixes 2018 [28]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bathing/Washing, Canon Disabled Character, Charles in a Wheelchair, Depression, First Kiss, M/M, Paralysis, Post-Cuba
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 17:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15175850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IreneADonovan/pseuds/IreneADonovan
Summary: A couple of months after Cuba, Charles is not dealing well...





	What You Need (Dust of Daily Life Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [still_lycoris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Dust of Daily Life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13724367) by [still_lycoris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris). 
  * In response to a prompt by [still_lycoris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris) in the [xmen_remix_madness2018](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/xmen_remix_madness2018) collection. 



> Title cheerfully stolen from the Stones...

Charles hated needing help.

Unfortunately, at the moment, he needed a lot of it. He'd been assured that in time he'd be able to manage most things on his own, but not now, not yet. His spine was still healing, and he lacked the strength for many of the most basic tasks.

Like bathing.

It was humiliating, needing to be stripped naked, carried like a babe, placed into the water. Hank, bless him, was matter-of-fact about it, and strong enough in his new form to do it alone, but Charles still seethed at the necessity.

Hank lowered him into the water, handed him soap and shampoo and a washcloth. This much, at least, he could do for himself. “I'll be back,” Hank said softly.

Charles nodded, unable to meet Hank's gaze. He waited until he heard the click of the door before setting aside the soap and shampoo, burying his face in the washcloth, and bursting into tears.

He took care to keep his sobs quiet, though his upper body shook with the force of them. He didn't want to alarm Hank. It wasn't Hank's fault he couldn't seem to cope. Nor Moira's. Nor the other boys'. He'd just lost too much, too quickly. And none of it would he get back.

He cried until he felt drained, devoid of strength and emotion, his heart as numb as his lower body. He lay back in the tub, the warm water soothing his aching back, and he let himself drift in an exhausted stupor.

After a while, Hank returned. “Charles? Are you done?” He took in Charles' tear-swollen features, and his face fell.

“I haven't even started,” Charles admitted. And now he was spent, the muscles of his upper body feeling nearly as limp and lifeless as his legs. Fighting the lassitude, he managed to reach for the washcloth now draped on the tub's edge.

“Let me,” Hank said.

Charles grimaced.

“Look, I know you're tired. I know you're still healing. And I know you hate accepting help for things you feel you can do yourself. But let me, just this once.”

Charles sighed. “Fine. Just get on with it.”

Hank knelt beside the tub, took the washcloth and the soap and began to lather Charles' upper body.

His touch was gentle, sure, surprisingly soothing. Charles let his mind wander as Hank worked, but that was a mistake, as it wandered straight to Erik and a night in a motel pool. His eyes flew open as he shoved the memory away, though the ghost of Erik's touch shivered up his spine.

Hank's hands froze. “Charles?”

Charles forced himself back to calm, closed his eyes again. “It's nothing, Hank.”

He knew Hank didn't believe him, but after a minute, Hank returned to his task, though he was entering the zone where sensation faded to nothingness. Charles could feel the water lapping against his chest, knew Hank was washing his lower body, but he, as always now, felt nothing.

He let his eyes drift open, immediately wished he hadn't. Hank was washing his cock and balls, yet he still felt nothing. To see Hank's touch there but not feel it was almost more than he could bear.

Hank met his gaze. “I'm sorry, Charles.”

Charles sighed. “Don't be.”

“I mean, I guess, I-I know what it's like to have a body I don't recognize any more.” Hank was blushing purple.

Charles set a hand on Hank's furry forearm. “I know you do, Hank.”

Bent over the edge of the tub the way he was, Hank's face was close, and before Charles could think better of the idea, he leaned up and kissed him, just a brush of the lips, full of promise.

After, Hank stared at Charles, golden eyes wide, then his hand slipped into Charles' hair, tangled there, pulled his head forward for another kiss, this one full of savage need.

Two ghosts lay between them, and neither was the one the other truly wanted, but maybe, for now, each could be what the other needed.


End file.
